


The Gorgon's Lair

by bees_stories



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is So Done, Dean-Centric, Gen, Monster of the Week, Protective Dean Winchester, gorgon - Freeform, injured!dean, sam is in danger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:31:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3490049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bees_stories/pseuds/bees_stories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam reads all the lore books, but somehow he still manages to get trapped in a gorgon's lair. Dean to the rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gorgon's Lair

***

He'd seen _Clash of the Titans_ , both versions, a dozen times. He'd seen the episode of _Hercules: the Legendary Journeys_ that dealt with Medusa too, but it didn't make going up against a gorgon any easier.

Especially since he wasn't the first hunter who had tried.

And failed. 

It seemed simple enough. All he had to do was sneak up and cut off her head.

Yeah, no sweat. Except she was faster, stronger, and if he made eye contact with her then he was going to end up like every other person in the hall of horrors: a statue.

Dean hefted the heavy sword. He'd found it among all the other discarded weapons. Hidden in plain sight, because the gorgon liked a challenge. But the markings were right. They looked like the ones described in the book. And there was something about the shape of the blade that just screamed _I'm a head choppin' badass. Why would you want anything else?_

Maybe he was imagining the last bit. But there were swords in Greek mythology that sang, or at least he thought there were. Maybe he was getting mixed up again. That was the trouble with running for days, injured and on fumes, sometimes things got confused and muddled. 

He gave the sword a trial swing, ignoring the pain in his shoulders and arms from an unanticipated brawl with a nest of surly vampires. Even though the sword had a longer blade than he was accustomed to, it was well balanced, and the pommel felt right in his hand. He explored carefully, taking in the lay of the land, or at least the configuration of the warehouse and all the stuff that was piled high in it. The gorgon was a hoarder. 

Statues of her victims, that was to be expected. But there was stuff _everywhere_. Mirrors, dozens of them, all turned towards the walls or covered with tarps. Silver trays and punch bowls. Lots of other shiny objects. It was like being in the den of a magpie. Except a magpie was a bird and had a nest, not a den. And this was not the time to work out analogies. Not when the gorgon was slithering around on her snake-like leg, stalking him.

Dean sighed. It was possible that his disordered thinking was a sign he was concussed. He touched the back of his skull gently. It hurt and he flashed back to the bar room. Someone had hit him with a baseball bat and then flung him up against a paneled wall. Ignoring the throbbing in his skull, he crept closer. 

Past the statue of a guy in a ball cap with a rifle slung over his shoulder. 

Past a couple of teenage boys. 

Past a woman wearing a big pair of shades. She had a machete hanging from her belt.

He came even with the statue of Sam. There was something clutched in his hand. Round. He'd tried to use a tea tray as a shield.

_Don't look!_ Dean ordered himself harshly, emulating his father's voice. _You look at him, you'll lose your cool. Stay detached. Stay focused._

Something in his chest seized up. For several seconds, Dean couldn't breathe properly, and then he got a hold of himself and deliberately expanded his lungs. If he managed to cut off the gorgon's head then there was a chance. A slim chance, that her victims might be saved. 

_That Sammy might be saved._

Dean took another determined breath and then he turned his face away and crept past the figure of his brother, deliberately ignoring the agonized expression that was frozen on his face, and all of its terrible implications.

_You should have never tried to go in alone. You never should have tried to be the hero._ He couldn't help mentally scolding Sam. It was second nature. Sam had screwed up. Sam deserved to be lectured. Sam, who read all the lore books, managed to miss the part where it said the gorgon could use magic. Sam didn't know that the pretty girl who'd caught his eye was actually the creature they'd been hunting.

What was it about Sam and his soft spot for monsters? Dean wondered. How come he could always pick them out of the crowd without recognizing them for what they were?

_You can ask him later. Assuming you both survive._

The gorgon had been using the warehouse as her lair for a long time. Many of the statues were covered in grime and cobwebs. _Not much of a housekeeper,_ Dean thought sourly. He brushed past an enchanted security guard and let loose a cloud of thick, choking dust. 

He fought against the desperate urge to cough and sneeze simultaneously, shoving the back of his hand against his mouth and nose. But the need to purge the gunk from his system was too overwhelming to fight for long. Tears streamed from his eyes as they tried to dislodge grit. Sneezing was a relief. 

For about five seconds. 

And then he was overwhelmed again. Dean screwed his eyes shut against another oncoming sneeze and probably saved his own life. He sensed motion to the right of him and without thinking, he looked up.

"Bitch!" Dean roared, tired and fed up of playing cat and mouse. He swung the sword in an arc in front of him, putting on a bold front as he tried separate fact from fiction. The book said he had to sever the head cleanly from the body. Anything else would just piss the gorgon off, and it was possible that she might grow another head out of spite. 

_No, dummy, that's a hydra,_ Dean corrected himself harshly.

Nowhere in any of the lore did a gorgon regrow its head. Although there was documentation that suggested some gorgons were immortal, which did suggest the possibility of head regrowth. Unable to think straight, and frustrated by everything that had occurred over the last few days, Dean swung again.

He was fighting blind and felt vulnerable despite his fancy, gorgon-killing sword. Dean conjured the spirit of Yoda, and Mr Miyagi, and every other Zen master he could think of, including the bald guy from _Kung Fu: the Series_. He listened as hard as he could and tried to feel the shifting air currents as he struck out, getting his bearings as he bumped against statues and tripped over a stack of metal somethings. He kicked them out of the way and lunged forward towards the slithering sound of scales against concrete.

The gorgon was a head taller than he was, as long as she didn't rear up on that tail of hers. She had long arms that would give her a better reach, so there was that to take into account, too. So far she had been playing with him, feinting forward and then dodging quickly out of the range of his strikes. Her laugh, as she taunted him, was cruel, and it chilled Dean's bones. She was going to tire him out and then he and Sam would be a matched set of door guards.

_Strike low. Go for where her knees should be. Then swing for the head._

It was a plan. Not much, but the best he had. 

The gorgon slithered forward, once again taking the attack to him. Dean took a breath and opened his eyes long enough to catch her reflection in a mirror that was only partially covered, then he crushed his eyelids together so hard they teared up, roaring as he leaped forward, swinging the sword low. 

He connected against solid flesh. The gorgon screamed, a high, blood-curdling sound. It was all he could do not to drop the sword and protect his ears. Instead he visualized the scaly neck and the pointed chin above it and took aim.

Impossibly, the strike connected. The gorgon's scream stopped abruptly, leaving a silence in its wake that was nearly as agonizing as her scream had been. Momentum from the swing carried Dean, propelling him off his feet. He tumbled, rolling painfully until he came to rest against the base of another covered mirror. He lay there, his chest heaving, and listened hard. 

There came a sound. A low, vibration that carried through the floor underneath him and upwards. Sensing danger, Dean grabbed a tarp off a mirror and flung it over his body as glass began to shatter and dozens of people, whose horrified cries had once been abruptly cut off, were given voice once more. 

"Sam?" Dean yanked off the tarp and clambered to his feet. He kicked something round and recoiled before dropping a tarp over it. Blood soaked through, green and viscous. The gorgon's head, possibly still as dangerous as if it had never been severed.

All around him people were shaking their heads, looking dazed and confused. "Sam!" he shouted again, his heart thudding against his ribs. Not all of the statues had been reanimated. Some, those that had been damaged or perhaps had been under the gorgon's spell for too long, collapsed to dust. 

"Dean?" 

Sammy's voice was a welcome relief. Dean sought it out. He saw his brother patting the shade-wearing female hunter on the shoulder and made a bee-line for him. 

"So, gorgon," Dean said. "You sure can pick'm, Sammy." 

Sam picked a cobweb from Dean's shoulder. He looked around the room at the disoriented people who were rapidly starting to turn panicky. "Yeah. Not really the time or place, Dean." He plunged into the crowd and aided by the authority of his fake FBI badge and a couple of the other more level-headed hunters, began to restore order. 

Dean grinned with pride, and then, as the adrenaline rush abruptly faded and his knees gave away, he decided Sam was right. Time and place. The lecture could wait until later.

end


End file.
